


Green

by VioKun



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Gen, Pet!Stuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioKun/pseuds/VioKun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world were Trolls have been dubbed as pets to humans, the color of your blood just may be the fine line between adopted and abandoned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green

            “Time of hatching: 5:31am, Sunday, August 31st. Weighing in at 3.14lbs. Jade blood, no mutations. Assigned lusus: Virgin Mother Grub,” the vet announced as he went down the line of each hatching egg. You were the first of sixteen jade bloods to hatch, your bloodline failing to ever stray from purity, like so many other egg groups may.  The only other blood type to hatch in a similar way was fuchsia, but to be fair, only one fuchsia egg will hatch at a time.

            Of course, at that time, none of it meant anything to you. And you don’t think it would now, if they didn’t pin your cage with such a high price. You can’t read, but from the amazing swing of profanities shot at your pricetag, you know it couldn't have been good.

            So, more often than not, you spend your days tucked away in some sour old cage. It always smells like pee, no matter how many times they wash it. It was like, constant pee smell. Sometimes, you’d get to beat people before they said “pee yew,” and catch them off guard. The store workers didn’t find it as funny as you did, sadly.

            Sitting in a quiet daze, you absent-mindedly listen to the clamor going on outside your cage, muffled voices and faint footsteps emitting from the other rooms. The cold metal exterior of your cage made for a pretty uncomfortable bed, even with the day blanket sprawled messily beneath you. Rarely did you ever find a comfortable spot in this cramped space. It makes you miss the days when you were with your lusus. Free to do whatever you want. You would often just lay by her though. Learning the ins and outs of your nature. When to hunt, when not to hunt, how to properly take food from fingers. All the good stuff.

            Why did you have to be so bright?

            She was drawn to you like you couldn’t explain, and you very much to her. But a lusus is temporary. Recycled through the breeding factories. And once you’ve mastered the skills she taught you, you were taken here. 4th street’s pet store.

            The first day you arrived, it was all about you. They swaddled you, and introduced themselves. They even gave you your first name. Lillian. It was a silly name, but it was yours. They showed you’d where you’d be in the days, and where you would be at night. How adoption works, and what the sky would look like outside when it was time to eat. You know they can’t teach you time, but you wish you had a better idea of when dinner time, but you guess “it’s dark outside” works too.

            You can’t say you completely loathe this place, though. The workers who come to take care and look after you are kind and gentle towards you, and you are grateful. But you’re not gonna lie, you do get pretty lonely in here all by yourself. You crave for the caring affection by someone who would adopt you and save you from sleeping another night in this irritating cage you call your home. But after all the people you’ve seen come and go, the chance of someone choosing you wasn’t even likely.

            You even figured out the first thing you were going to say to your new family. It was ‘hi mommy/daddy I am Lillian and you are my new family!” Okay, it was a bit sketchy. And awkward. But you knew you’d love them from the second you laid eyes on them. Now all you have to do is… wait. And uh, wait some more.

            The sun is creeping well below the horizon, only a few stray rays daring to peek into the darkness. Darkness means closing time, and closing time means...!

            “Dinner time!” Coo's the chubby red head. One by one, she works your cages open and helps you onto the floor. She reminds you of the one time you saw this movie where this pretty lady was surrounded by all kinds of animals. Yeah, she’s just like that, you think.

            There are exactly a lot of trolls that live in this store. It’s a speciality store, or something like that. They all smelled different, looked different. None of them were from your nest.

            The bundles of trolls around you all hover in near synchronization near her feet. Every step she took was idled in the air as she searched for a spot not filled with tails or paws. She uses her silly walk to get to the kitchen in the back, and, with her magic powers, begins to make food.

            You can hear some of them chitter and whine with impatience. You all cling to her legs, and fall into a battle of purrs. The entire air vibrating with the sounds of a childish fight for dominance. But Tucker always had you guys beat, and that’s why he was her favorite.

            On the menu tonight is fish sticks. Oh god, oh god, those are your favorite. You enjoy globbing pounds of tartar sauce onto one, and then cramming the whole thing into your mouth. You’ve only almost choked twice, but it was totally worth it.

            With your tummy filled and your hunger satisfied, you’re given a little extra free time to wander around and interact with the others in a cacophony of squeaks and purring while the woman busies herself with cleaning up. But, like always, you’re eventually taken back to your own cage. You whine quietly in protest, not wanting to go back inside just yet, but the nice lady only pats your head with a gentle motion, and whispers to you a soft “hush dear” before closing the small gate of your cage and tenderly wishing you goodnight. The slime from your half-as- uh, butted, recuperacoon laid in your nighttime… Dish? You’re not really sure what to call it.  It fits in the bottom of your cage and holds the gooey stuff. Just enough to almost have your nose submerged as you lie down.  

            With a light breath, you watch as she works to set the others up in their own nighttime recuperacoon until she’s finally closes up the store, and allows for the noise to gradually die down. The silence makes you drowsy and you think maybe, just maybe, tonight you’ll have a goodnight’s sleep and have a even better day tomorrow. You can only hope. It’s really hard to top fish sticks, though.

            Nuzzling into the soothing glop of slime, you shift around several times before finding at least a half decent comfy spot. You may, or may not, be a total pain to wash off the next morning.

            Exhaling, you rest your head down and allow yourself to stare blankly at nothing for a few moments, your eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness of the room. Eventually, your lids begin to wearily fall shut, and you feel completely relaxed.

 

**…**

 

            The humans that buy you aren’t even allowed to come into the shop yet. Probably because bath time is first thing in the morning. Sometimes the humans will tell you before they scoop you out of your cage, other times it’s their unpleasant ‘good morning’ to you.

            This morning, the noisy jingle of the shop’s bells wakes you up, and you coo a few sleepily slurred greetings. Your fur is spiked in a beautiful disaster of green slime, sticking up every which way. In a drowsy stupor, you stretch out and yawn with a little squeak. Blinking several times in attempt to clear your vision, you avert your gaze towards the door of your cage to notice the figure of a woman slowly approaching, a towel strewn over her shoulder. Getting up as you watch her fingers fumble with the metal lock of your cage, you give a second short yawn as she carefully scoops you up with the towel in her arms. With a sweet smile, she looks down at your still-sleepy form and gently utters a sweet ‘good morning, dear’.

            You like this lady, she’s nice. She’s not as rough-handling and mean like some of the other employees are. You’re incredibly lucky to have her give you your shower this morning. You absolutely hate being spewed in the face with water on purpose or accident, and to have your fur scrubbed so hard it practically starts to hurt. As she takes you into the grooming room, you see a row of others being bathed by workers, high squeals and hisses emitting from several of those stations.

            She wordlessly carries you over to one of the bathing stations that aren’t already occupied. Holding you up over her shoulder, she briefly leans down to set the water and prepare the soap for you. Assuring the water was at appropriate temperature, she very gently and slowly sets you down into the tub, urging you to stay still. Instinctively, you flinch away from the shower head but she keeps a hand pressed light to the back of your head to keep you in one spot.

            You’re not gonna lie, you have to admit that the warm water from the showerhead streaming through your fur feels pretty good. The lady is keen on making sure there’s not a speck of green slime still clinging to your fur; you watch as she works in silence, an absent-minded concentrated look on her face.

            The aftermath of sleep still has you in its grasp. Your eyes just slowly sliding shut. And then back open. Annnd close. Before they snap open. You rub at your eyes, trying to rid of any traces of the sand man. He’s a bad guy, you think. Like robbers. Making people tired isn’t nice. And he leaves nasty sand by your eyes. He probably wants everyone to not-see. What a meanie.

            Lost in the daze of your angry sandman hate, you just barely acknowledge the change from water to towel. But the warmth that slowly begins to refill your bones is beyond refreshing, and a new beam of energy is pulsing through your body. No more sopor, no more evil sandman evildoings. That means its walk time. Heckie. Deckie. Yes!

            There’s only five people working at the store today. And a whole lot of you. They go out in groups of threes, not that you know this, and you are the fifth group to leave. One of the last. You got hooked up with the cat lover. The one who doesn’t seem to really like you all that much. You were never really all that good with cats.

            Whenever you guys go out for walkies you get knit sweaters. They come in all kinds of colors. You are told yours is jade. You’re the only one with this color. Its your favorite, you decide. They keep you safe, though. That way when you get to the outdoors you don’t get lost. Lost doesn’t sound fun to you.

            The sidewalk is always cold on your walk there. So cold that sometimes you can even feel the pads of your feet go numb. But the big yellow thingy-majigger in the sky makes the sidewalk warm. And sometimes you kind of just… Roll over. The heat is just so nice against your back. You could lay here just about all day. If you didn’t have that stupid leash.

            What is this things problem with you anyhow? It always makes you walk with the human, or it drags you. It’s so stupid. You’ll have to remember to chew through a few more, so they have to hold all of your hands, like a few weeks ago. It was the bestest thing to ever happen in your life.

            The cat-lover lady keeps checking her watch, and then throws out random numbers. You think that maybe she’s smelled too many litter boxes. That’s obviously why she is crazy.

            Oooh! Ooh! Look, a dog! Your ears stand up in alert, and you make a grabby motion for the dog. Until it starts barking. You don’t think you’ve ever dropped your hands that far. You know what sounds like a good place to be right now? Legs.

            You reach out for the cat-lover’s leg, and make yourself her newfound leech. Your muzzle buried in its side. The dog had looked cute. It was all fluffy. It must be the lady’s fault. Dogs eat cats, not trolls, right?

            When the dog finally passes, with its barking rampage in tow, you are pried free of the leg. You didn’t leave any scratches because you’re not dumb. Apparently half-hair dude wasn’t so lucky with Pigeon. Who appears to have dug his claws so deep that he actually drew blood. Half-hair dude is trying to pass it off with a laugh, and reassuring the other troll. Boys are kind of really weird. You think you’ll just stay with girls forever. But not cat ones. You must avoid them at all costs.

            Your morning walk drags on, dull and increasingly hot like always. Your small group stops at a park. You think you’ve probably asked to play a thousand times. The answer is always no, so you stopped asking. The bench’s metal is cold, even through the cushion of your fur, but it’s welcomed. Anything to the heat this morning is packing in.

            You are handed a Disney Princess sippy cup to drink water from. You were once trusted with a water bottle, but days of soaking your sweater and fur are no more. Or something else really dramatic like that.

            You leisurely drink the cool water, no matter how ridiculous the cup you’re drinking it from is. You take your time, enjoying the breeze and sunlight the outdoors has to offer to you. But your brief moment of relaxation is cut short when your caretaker interrupts, coaxing you off the bench and urging you to come with her to continue your walk. Before you could properly react, she’s lightly tugging at the leash, wanting you to hurry up. With a quiet huff you hop off the bench and immediately follow in her steps, briefly glancing over at the group playing at the park.

            “We’re gonna go to the store for some new towels. Damn moths have left us nothing but holes. It’s bullshit. The stupid store doesn’t replace them, so we have to, how is that fair?” your lady complains.

            "Stella, come on, they’re towels. With us all pitching in it’ll be like.. Pfft, I don’t know, three bucks total from all of us?” says the half-haired dude, before nudging the quiet girl for support. She looks up at both of them for a second, before sitting another argument out. Her troll, Sweets, looks just as annoyed.  

            “Come _on_ , Stanley, this isn’t the first time we had to buy something for the store. Remember that one green blood we had a while ago. Uh, some crazy cat lady adopted her. But before that we had to go and dish out, like, what? A hundred dollars each to her vet ‘cause of some stupid bladder infection? And if we didn’t she would’ve _died?”_

            “Okay, okay, fine, if you don’t like it so much, why don’t you just quit?” He inquired, his voice bordering the line of yelling. You hate it when they fought. They fought over dumb things. Over their green paper. If you had any, you’d share it all.

            "You know what, that’s a great fucking idea. Here, let me just drop this job out of the blue and start _sweating_ money, huh? Wouldn’t that be just a _grand_ idea?!”

            “Uhm,” there was a stranger, their hands twisting in nervous patterns in front of them. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is where my kids play, and you’re scaring them,” she explain. Her children looking safely on from behind her legs.

            “I’m sorry,” they say in unison, shooting each other dirty looks as they do so. They have sour looks, but you think the stranger was good. You smile at them for making the yelling stop, and follow in tow behind your human companion.

            You, along with Pigeon and Sweets, are tethered to this handy dandy pole. None of the humans stay out here with you, so you have a good, however long time to sit and do nothing. The sidewalk is warm, but it doesn’t get too hot. The same principle does not apply to the pole. It’s hotter than fresh tater tots.

            Content to lie on the ground, the time you drifted is lost to you, and your awakening is shockingly pleasant. You, of course, love to be pet. It’s so calming, like... like a calming thing. Yeah, _Just_ like that.

“Ohh, aren’t you just darling?” A sweet feminine voice cooed, her fingers streaming through your fur in long, gentle strokes. You weren’t even entirely sure any more, but you could have sworn you started purring from her gentle touch.

            Her caresses and obvious adoration makes it near impossible for you to lift your head or even open your eyes. So caught up in the moment and relaxed, you nearly start to doze off until you force yourself to stay up. No sleeping. At least, not now.

            “Oh dear, I’m sorry,” she’s saying as she pulls away. You cannot allow this. You push yourself right back up into her hand, a reborn purr building in your chest. She muffles a hint of laughter, and continues to indulge you with strokes. “What’s your name?” she asks, but you fail to answer. Too busy being pet to be polite. “My name is Rose.”

            Wow, you should get an award. Highest ability to ignore greetings. Most annoying purr, too. You’ve won all of the awards. Surely she’ll be impressed. She’s not. She withdraws her hand, and you slowly fall into silence. Did you do something wrong? Your ears twisting in confusion, you turn to her, and open your eyes. “Why stop?”

            “Well, I wouldn’t want to send you into some sort of a coma.” she says, a chuckle lightening her voice. You smile at her, but her words make no sense.

            “A... whats-it?” you ponder out loud, your eyes drifting back to her hand. She shakes her head and begins to explain, but is quickly cut off by the store’s bell’s jingling.

            “Lillian? Who is that?” the half-haired dude, Stanley, asks.

            “Rose! She pets me. See?” you motion for her to pet you again, but she’s on her way to stand up.

            “Is this your troll?”

            “Uh, nah,” he says, setting down the few bags of groceries by you. “She’s a pet troll at the store I work at. It’s their daily walk.”

            “Ah, I see. And you said her name was…?”

            “Lillian. Were you interested in adopting her?”

            “I’d have to talk it over with my roommate first. We already have a few pets. Is there a booklet of some sorts so I can know more about raising a troll?”

            “‘Course, right uh- wait, it’s was just…” he’s fumbling around his pockets, uttering frantic apologies after pockets continuously return fruitless.

            “Here,” the cat-lover says, handing some kind of pamphlet thing over to Rose. You see Stanley’s face redden, and you wonder if he has a fever suddenly.

            “You need a doctor,” you say, interrupting Rose’s thank you. “Your face is red, you’re sick,” you explain to him and scoot close to pat his shoe. “I’m not doctor, but we’ll go to the hostibal.”

            You turn your head just in time to see Rose attempting to stifle another small laugh behind the pamphlet that was given to her. She exhales a hardly audible ‘aw’ at you, lowering the paper from her face to reveal an amused smile.

            “He’s fine, Lils, we should probably head back. Nice to meet you uhm..?”

            “Rose.”

            “Rose, right,” the cat-lover adds awkwardly, nodding her head. “We’ve got to get going. Hope to see you around,” she says briefly, untethering the trolls from their post, and handing the leash to each respective owner. The quiet girl is stuck with the two bags worth of towels.

            It was just a… hop, skip, and a jump? Or however that goes, back home. Or, uh, to the store. It’s basically your home. Although, a little less so when the shop opens up. Then you are bothered by the occasional tingling of the bells, and the murmurs of failed business.

            You decide that you will try and be adopted tomorrow. Your feet are tired, and you ache for a good petting again. You simply cannot work up the energy to pose for the shoppers. It’s just too much work.

            To nap without your slime is dangerous. Nightmares and hallucinations are sure to ensue, so, unfortunately, it is a day spent looking at the walls. At least they have pretty colors on them. And paw prints.

            Your ears prick to the sound of the cash register. You sit up in your cell, and peer from beyond the bars of your cage. It’s that one troll. That one… Whose name is totally not important. They haven’t been here as long as you, but there they go. On a leash, to an actual home.

            And now, you think, you know what jealousy feels like.

 


End file.
